


Legacy

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Drama, Filk, Gen, Poetry, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-07-03
Updated: 1999-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-10 07:55:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11122998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Benton's thoughts on first entering Chicago.





	Legacy

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

I still remember her smiling face,  
Though I was still very small.  
She held my hand as I learned to walk,  
And kissed my tears when I would fall.

Her loving arms would hold me,  
Making everything right.  
And she was strong enough to banish,  
The monsters that came in the night.

Yet she's been dead these many years,  
A boy watched her laid in her grave.  
Now a man remembers his mother,  
How she was loving and brave.

I next lived under my grandmother's wing,  
With her library of tales both tame and wild.  
She took on herself the difficult task,  
Of civilizing this woodland's child.

She gave me a hunger for knowledge,  
The gift of facts and figures and lore.  
But she also gave hugs and cookies,  
She was a mother, a teacher, and more.

Now my grandmother also sleeps,  
Yet I know from heaven she can see.  
I try to live as would do her proud,  
Payment for all that she did for me.

My grandfather taught lessons as well,  
Though they were of the rougher sort.  
To know how to size up other men,  
And to live by my own resort.

He'd supported his young family in China,  
Lived in many a strange and foreign land,  
He taught me to find my home in my heart,  
Wherever my body might happen to stand.

I know that he also watches now,  
As I travel to this distant place.  
Such a large and cold American city,  
Every person with a strangers face.

My father was a myth, a legend,  
Almost too distant to know it was true.  
Like a dream he was there and gone,  
Hiding from the son that he never knew.

I tried to seek out his attention,  
To prove myself worthy somehow.  
I tried to become the man he desired,  
Which is why I am a Mountie now.

He too lies dead with the others,  
And I grieve differently for this man.  
I mourn not the person I knew,  
But the person that I never can.

I say that I do this for my father,  
But that's not entirely true.  
Mother, Grandma, Grandpa,  
I am on this quest also for you.

For I am the last of the Frasers.  
I am now the only living legacy.  
As you look down I want you to know,  
That I am keeping you all alive in me.


End file.
